The Crimes of your Average Slice Girl
by neveroutoftime
Summary: AU in which Rose Tyler, Amy Pond, and Clara Oswald are serial killers, who only kill rich, thieving men occasionally aided by a man known by the alias of Eleven. Their life of crime in London is glamorous, but comes to an end when a group of detectives catch onto them, and then cause the group to take their killing spree into America. But will they be safe in the land of the free?
1. A Last Kill

**Hi this is another idea I had in mind, and I kinda love it. The rating could change depending on the amount of gore I end up putting into this so... We'll see... Anyway, enjoy another fanfiction! Please do read my other ones, even though none of them are complete, they will be during summer! WHOO HOO!**

Rose Tyler's heart raced with fierce determination as she picked the lock at the front of the house. She could feel her partners' hot breath on her neck, their anxiety mixing with hers in a pot of nerves. "Would you both just calm down? I've almost got it!" She snapped at them.

Amy and Oswin immediately backed away, and desperately tried to calm down. Normally, the anxiety wouldn't have been so bad, but ever since someone had tipped the police of their identities they'd been cautiously roaming the streets snapping their heads around in fear whenever a neighbor called out their name. Each day had become a question of whether they would live or die, and it took the excitement out of the killing. "Just one more kill," Rose told herself, "One more, and then we're gone." At last, the lock gave way, and Rose grinned wickedly as she opened the door. She glanced at the other two, who had visible expressions of sheer joy in their eyes, then she opened the door. It opened without a sound, its hinges had been recently oiled.

Rose knew this because she'd helped Jacob- the owner of the house- oil them. For the past few weeks she'd been getting to know Jacob, she'd been in his house, gone out for dinner with him, and even brought him lunch at work. Of course, this routine was nothing new to Rose, Amy, or Oswin. They'd attracted dozens of men using promises of lots of wine and provocative attitudes, which the men always fell for. They often took turns luring in the men, last time it was Amy, and the time before it was Oswin, it was a fun game. Each time the men thought they were getting themselves into a harmless relationship with the girl next door, and each time they wound up dead. Jacob was different, however. Since he was their last victim in their home country, he was going to be killed in a very special way. Normally they used knives, firststabbing their victims in the heart, and as they died they carved their alias (The Slice Girls) into the victims chest and abdomen area, then to finish the gruesome job they took out the eyes. This time, Rose carried only a pistol. There was no blade in sight. The three of them quietly entered the house, not a sound was made as they tip-toed through the living room, and towards the white, spiraling staircase.

"Nice house," Amy commented under her breath. Rose grinned, "That it is." She was the first to climb the staircase, the other two quickly following her footsteps. As they approached the top, Rose handed Amy the whip. "I don't think I'll be using it after all," she whispered when the red head's face gained a pinched look of confusion. "His room is the first on the left," Rose whispered, letting the other two pass ahead of her as she pulled out her pistol, and eight golden bullets. She quickly inserted the bullets in the pistol before standing, and joining her comrades at the door. Oswin grinned wickedly as she turned the knob, and pushed the door open Amy walked in first, and took a moment to admire the beauty of the king-sized bed that stood against the wall furthest away from her. Its sheets were the same ivory-white color the stairs had been, and curtains with gold rims lined the top part near the ceiling, accenting the purple coloring of the fabric nicely. She had a small laugh at the mirror plastered to the ceiling, and wondered just how many women he'd attracted to the house before Rose. "

Yes, he's a bit of a womanizer. He's cheated on many of his girlfriends, myself included. Not that it matters, our whole relationship was a lie anyway. Had to make him think I was actually into him to win his trust. Unfortunately he didn't trust me enough to leave a key, but clearly that's a minor problem." She turned and faced the others, "Let's make sure he never woos another woman again, shall we?" She cautiously approached the bed, and crawled on top of the ivory-white sheets before swinging her left leg over Jacob's body. He was pinned underneath her, there was no escape. The muscled man let out a groan as he woke up, and he slowly opened his eyelids to reveal hazel eyes. He blinked as he took in the sight of the woman before him. "Rose?" He asked, confused as to just what on Earth she was doing in his bedroom at this time of night. He hadn't let her in, they had nothing planned, and there was no way she could have found out about his night with Mary-Anne Devereaux. "Hush now, you're dreaming." She whispered, tugging at the curtains which were hooked on one of the poles holding up the bed.

The curtain fell into its place, obscuring Oswin and Amy's view of the killing. Jacob blinked himself awake, "Wait, what are you doing?" He asked, "I'm not dreaming. Rose what the hell is going on?" Rose grinned again, and tugged on his shirt, bringing his face in close proximity to hers. "I'm going to kill you, Jacob." She whispered, pulling the pistol out from behind her back, and pressing it against his chest. He let out a whimper of fear as her finger wrapped around the trigger. "Did you really think I was falling for you? Did you really think I cared? I don't care about you. I didn't care about any of them. Out of all the men I've killed not one has meant anything to me, or to the others." "The others?" He asked, she could hear the panic in his voice, but it only made her delight grow.

She put her mouth right up against his ear, and spoke again, "Together, we're The Slice Girls." Rose then pulled the trigger. She could feel the blood spurtting out of the wound, and onto her pink tank top and black leather jacket. She pulled away from his ear, and pressed the gun against his heart, "Want some more?" She asked cockily. He coughed up blood in response, the majority of it landing on her face and neck. The blonde didn't care, in fact, she enjoyed his pain. One of the biggest aspects of all the girls' personalities was that they were extremely sadistic. Nothing gave them greater pleasure than causing human suffering. Rose pulled the trigger again, and shot a bullet directly into his heart. More blood splattered onto her body, she was likely covered in the stuff. Not that she cared. She kept on firing shots into Jacob's chest. Somewhere between shots six and seven she felt him stop moving, but she fired her last two into his head anyway, purely for her own pleasure.

"Open the curtain." Footsteps shuffled towards Rose and Jacob's bullet ravaged body. "You and your privacy," Amy muttered as she pulled the curtain back. Rose winked, "I can't have people watching me kill someone. Can I?" Oswin cleared her throat, "Are we going to leave a message?" Rose didn't hesitate to answer, "Of course we are." She dippedher fingers into the pool of blood that was forming around Jacob, and leaned over his body to paint her message on the wall behind the head of the bed. If he were alive he'd most certainly be checking out my chest right now, she thought. Considering the type of pervert he is. T

he blonde was quick in writing, within seconds she swung her left leg off of Jacob and crawled off of the bed to be with her posse. The three of them stood together for a moment, admiring their work. "I love going out with a bang," Oswin said grinning, "It makes this job all the more fun." "Well, it's not over. We're just changing offices. And upping the crime rate in America." "Good point, Amy." They then turned on their heels and left the house as the first rays of sunshine fingered their way through Jacob's windows.

Their last kill in England was done, now all they had to do was flee the country successfully, and hope the London P.D never found them. As soon as they left the neighborhood Rose pulled a walkie talkie out of her pocket, and turned it on. "We've got to radio eleven, let him know the job's done." Eleven was the alias used by their accomplice, a relatively tall man with brown hair that formed a strange, but cute, quiff over his forehead. He'd been friends with Amy before he'd been friends with any of the others. The two had known each other since Amy was seven years old. Eleven had been working with them since they committed their first crime together as The Slice Girls, and there was no doubt that he would ever leave them. "Okay, but be quick our plane leaves in three hours," Oswin whispered as they sat down on a park bench that was surrounded by several tall trees. Rose gave her a quick nod, "I will." She pressed the talk button on the walkie talkie, "Eleven? Can you hear me?"

A moment later, a soft voice answered, "Yes, yes I can hear you. What's going on where you're at?"

"The deed is done. You should've seen the look on the poor bastard's face."

"Was he scared, confused, or both?"

"Definitely both. Now come take us to the airport we're sitting on a park bench outside of his neighborhood. It's just past Grand Avenue."

"I'll be there, see you soon, Rose."

Rose grinned as she put the walkie talkie back in her pocket, "We're set for our little plane ride. Hope none of you are afraid of heights." They'd all been on a plane before as far as Rose knew, if any of them was scared she was certain they could deal with it on their own. After all, they'd killed many people, and made many terrifying escapes from their crimescenes. Was it even possible to scare the three of them? Rose had no idea. The only thing that could possibly spark fear in her eyes was the fear of getting caught. She had no desire to spend anytime in a jail cell, that is, if the court was kind enough to allow her to live. With the body count she'd racked up, that wasn't likely. If any of them were caught, they'd surely face the death penalty.

They waited for about ten minutes in silence before they heard the roar of Eleven's yellow mustang. The sound was like music to their ears.

Amy gave a heavy sigh of relief, "At last," she breathed, "we're almost free."

"Yeah," mumbled Oswin, "Almost." A moment later dim headlights peeked around the street corner, and the mustang appeared in the girls' line of sight. Rose stood up, and motioned for Amy and Oswin to follow. Together, they approached the mustang, their heads held high, and smiles on their faces.

Eleven got out of the car, and took Rose's pistol from her hands, "We'll leave that here." She nodded in agreement, then she opened the passenger side door, and slid into the car. Amy stayed outside for a moment and hugged Eleven, Oswin did the same a moment later. When they were finished with their hugfest, they too entered the mustang, and buckled their seat belts. Eleven quickly started the car, and pulled out onto the main road. "Goodbye, home," Rose whispered softly.


	2. Lost Girls

**Oh my god I'm so sorry it's taken so long to get this chapter out! Haha! I'm back and this time I won't be on such a long hiatus. Though, I am going to California in a week so there'll be at least a two week hiatus there! **

**Anyway, enjoy!**

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Detective Rory Williams strolled through the hallways of the building that was home base to the London P.D with a spring in his step and a smile wide on his face. A few co-workers looked stunned as he passed them. The sandy haired detective had never been so cheery at work, in fact, some speculated that he'd never laughed at all in his lifetime.

His smile grew wider when he saw one of his friends down the hall from him. Officer Martha Jones stood over the coffee machine watching as the warm, brown liquid poured from the machine into the cup. "Martha!" He cried. The young officer looked up, and her eyes widened in surprise at Rory's smile. "What's up with you? You've never been this perky."

"Well that's cause I've never had a one hundred pound raise until now, and we're closer than ever to catching The Slice Girls."

"That's wonderful Ror-"

She was interrupted by the sound of a crackled voice coming in on her radio, and she quickly stopped moving as she listened. "I repeat we have a situation at 673 Parkson road..." The radio crackled again, "...Dead body... message... Slice Girls..." then the message cut.

Martha looked up, "You were saying about The Slice Girls?" She asked. Rory groaned, and immediately pulled out his phone, "I'm calling John and Donna."

Martha watched him walk away in dismay, "Someone's got to stop those bitches." She quickly rushed after him, and towards her patrol car.

A quick note about Martha Jones: she was undoubtedly the best of anyone at her job. Sure, she wasn't very tall, and she didn't have a very thick figure, but there was something naturally menacing in her appearance that made people back down whenever she was near them. Not that she was a mean person. She was simply incredibly good at her job, and she had never fired off her gun. Not even once.

Half an hour later the team of detectives had arrived at the home of the Slice Girls' most recent victim, Jacob Some-Last-Name-That-Rory-Did-Not-Give-A-Shit-About. Rory had been the first to arrive on the scene, and he was leaning on a fire truck when Martha's cruiser appeared at the scene, followed by John's ancient, white mini van two minutes later.

He watched as John hopped energetically out of his van, then strode over to the other side where he was promptly hit in the hip by Donna's opening passenger side door. "Ow!" John yelped as he backed away from the door, "What was that for?"

"I told ya, you nimrod, that I can open a bloody door on my own," Donna muttered angrily as she stood up and adjusted her black blazer. John scoffed, "I was trying to be polite, you know," He replied, "What's got you this morning?"

Another voice entered their conversation, "It's probably cause the Slice Girls have caused more trouble," Rory said as he approached them, "Thanks for coming on such a short notice, both of you."

John sighed, "It's not a problem," He said, watching as Jacob's body was being carried out of his rather nice house on a gurney. Donna cleared her throat, "That's our cue to go inside, I suppose," She said, gently tapping John with the back of her hand and moving towards the house.

As they walked inside, Rory tapped Martha, who was talking to another officer, on the shoulder, "You coming with us, or not?" He asked. She shook her head, "I'm gonna talk to the neighbors, see if they heard anything," She replied. He nodded in response, "Alright, tell me later if you learn anything interesting,"

"I will."

Two minutes later Rory, Donna, and John were standing just outside the room where Jacob had been killed being debriefed by the coroner on just how bad the situation was. "… Normally they never use a gun, it's always just a knife, and that's it, but this time there's no knife to be found, just eight stupid bullets that are still inside the poor man, and a message on the wall," The tall, and rather large coroner told them.

"What's it say?" Donna asked. The coroner opened the door, "See for yourself," He told her. As she entered the room, Donna's nose was hit hard with the heavy stench of blood, and she nearly hurled, "God, this is disgusting," She murmured, looking around the room. The pretty white curtains that surrounded the bed were curled up around the bed frame, and stained with blood spots, some of them were hand prints. "They're getting careless," John observed, "I wonder why."

The three of them cautiously approached the bed, and stepped over a roll of yellow CAUTION tape that had been carelessly splayed out on the floor by one of their coworkers. They ignored it. Their eyes were too busy reading the message on the wall, the one that read, "Goodnight, Jacob, Farewell London. Hello to freedom. Love, the Slice girls."

Rory blinked a few times, "What does that mean?" He asked confusedly, looking at his friends for answers. John shrugged, "I dunno, I mean I get that Goodnight Jacob means he's dead and goodbye to his life, and I'm pretty sure Farewell London means that they're…"

"Leaving," Donna finished, "They're leaving. And 'Hello to freedom'? Where is one place that boasts constantly about how free it is?"

"America," Rory and John answered at the same time. John suddenly appeared very angry, "First they kill, and then they escape!" He cried, punching at the air, "Bloody hell! They're just three women! How hard can it be to catch those bitches?"

Rory gently put a hand on his partner, "John, calm down. We'll catch them, hell, we'll go to America if we have to, but we will never find them if we spend every minute of our search going absolutely mad!" He exclaimed. John's breathing began to slow down, then he set his head in his hands, "You're right," He said, leaning against a wall, "I need to get myself together."

Donna walked cautiously towards him, "Hey, it's alright, John," She said, "We're going to find them, and we'll bring them home, and we'll have justice." John looked up at his partner, and grinned, "Where would I be without a friend like you?" He asked. Donna grinned, "In hell, probably," She replied, "Come on, let's get out of here."

She glanced at Rory as she led John out of the room, and he quickly followed behind the two of them. As they walked down the stairs to leave the house, Martha came racing towards Rory, screaming his name, "Rory! We've found footprints on the sidewalks nearby, and tire tracks!" She exclaimed, panting. Rory's eyes widened, "Are you serious?" He asked.

"Like I said, careless," Donna whispered to John.

Martha nodded at Rory, ignoring Donna's comment, "We think that they have an accomplice, someone who was waiting for them to finish up their work here, and to come over to him, or her. I assume it's a her."

Rory glanced at Donna and John, "Let's see it," he told Martha, who promptly led them out of the house, and towards the sidewalks, which were covered in faint, bloody footprints. "There's only one set of footprints," John observed, "And three of them."

Martha nodded, "We're assuming only one of them actually did the dirty work, and the other two stood guard. Perhaps that's what they've done this whole time," She said, "We think that the only reason they left so much evidence behind this time, is because they wanted to show us how they did it before they got away, they wanted us to see it. They wanted to show us what we weren't seeing before."

They walked around the corner that was just down the street from Jacob's house, and then Martha pointed out the tire tracks. Number markers were placed all around the area, and flecks of red paint were clearly visible by the side of the road. "It's not from the car, if that's what you're wondering," Martha muttered, "It's nail polish, you just have to smell it to know."

John, Rory, and Donna all nodded simultaneously, "So, this is all that's left of them?" John asked.

"All that's left of them in Britain, at least," Donna mumbled.

"We're going to nail them," Rory said turning away from the scene, and dialing a number on his mobile, "Hello? Yes, could you please send a message to the FBI, CIA or whatever, and tell them that the Slice Girls are on their way to America?" He asked. There was a silence, then Rory's lips formed into a grim smile, "Alright, thank you," He said, ending the call. "Well?" John asked. "They know," Rory replied, "In about five minutes, America will know, and the Slice Girls will be caught."

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**So that's it! I will be back with this soon! Sorry this chapter was so short, but it introduces you to the Slice Girls enemy, so, it's necessary. Anyway, review, favorite, and follow this thing because, I love it when that happens. And if you don't, I'll kill off your otp.**


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